


Apples and Wool

by The_Exile



Category: Strawberry Vinegar (Visual Novel)
Genre: Community: ladiesbingo, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Sensation Play, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 20:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15957386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Exile/pseuds/The_Exile
Summary: Her demonic origin meant that Licia was an expert at weaving different sensations into Rie's brain, sometimes subtle, sometimes strong.





	Apples and Wool

**Author's Note:**

> for ladies_bingo card square 'Vignette'

I smell freshly picked apples and a young lamb not long born into the world, sharp but faint. Older and more filled out though she is, she still has that awkward gangliness, her horns still small and stubby, curved neatly just above her ears. She smooths them down at the ends as a fashion accessory, polishes them to a sparkling sheen and commissions silver tips for the ends, sometimes dying them with a faint rouge colouring interlaced with gold filigree. Demons in their native realm tend to go for a more menacing look, sharpening the points, adding more spikes and blood-red tinges, but her family have always been more modern and subtle and seductive. People mistake her for a lust demon (she's flattered, her response usually enough to send a blush to their face) because they associate gluttony demons with being grossly fat and unable to sate their appetites or stop trying. They don't understand human temptation - the barest whiff of food, driving people insane with its closeness but unattainability, gets more appetites going than making someone physically sick as they burn out all their senses at once. And what could be more appealing than a living example that food oughtn't always make one fat, could be indulged in to the heart's desire without consequence? Except, she added after explaining this, she wasn't doing the whole demon thing any more, she wanted to go to college or become a sports star or a fashion designer or something, and wasn't it wonderful how humans could do what they wanted and weren't beholden to a specific destiny? No wonder it was so easy to get them to go off the rails and do anything, justify anything, pursue their darkest desires without shame, committing sins more delicious and inventive than the Lords of Hell were even aware existed? (I reflect on how my mother would probably have revelled in such dark cynicism from the girls she now considered to be her two daughters. When I pointed out that the sort of things we get up to these days definitely aren't what you do with your sister, she shrugged and said it was inevitable we would be married soon, the rate we were going, and anyway she knew lots of juicy gossip about adopted siblings in sordid affairs.) Whenever she ate - and she was always eating, just enough to make you wonder how the hell a tiny thing like her put it all away but not enough to make you suspect actual inhuman powers - she smelled faintly, tantalisingly of the food she had consumed. Either that or she smelled of the outdoors - she ran through the countryside a lot. I'd read some more books on demons and a lot of their designs were based on nature spirits, dangerous and sometimes hostile to humans but certainly not outright evil. She made daintily little noises when she ate, too, and when she did... other things. To the touch, she felt like soft, fine wool, the lace and frills of her favourite outfits, her warm vitality, her petite fluttering hands. And her taste... pleasant shudders run down my spine just thinking about that night.


End file.
